Silver and Cold
by MortalKombatant19
Summary: This is the story of Sub-Zero's successor, the story of his many trials and tribulations, most specifically his struggle with a ghost from his predecessor's past.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Kombat or any of the cool things affiliated with it.**_

_**A/N: This is my first really big fanfic, as well as my first attempt outside of humor and parody, which is the reason I started it on this new account. It's a shift to a much darker tone than anything on my previous account, so I have no idea how it'll end up. It's probably going to be unbelievably long-like, at least 40 chapters. I don't know if anyone will read it, so please review if you do, eh? If I get enough positive reviews then I'll definitely finish it. If not, I'll scrap it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!**_

Clad in the traditional garb of the Lin Kuei, the man crept through the ventilation shaft as silently as possible. His pursuers were not that far behind him, and any sound made in such a small aluminum shaft would make unbelievable amounts of noise, carrying back to where his adversaries sought him.

The man found his exit eventually-a small branch off from the main shaft, leading to the back of the building he was escaping from. Or attempting to escape from, at least. He crawled nearer to the opening, escape so close he could almost taste it. As he began his emergence from the cramped space into the silver moonlight, he allowed his concentration to slip for the slightest moment, a fraction of one second, and it happened. His foot caught on the bent lip of the shaft, and he fell, clanging loudly into the trash receptacle below him.

The fall was the least of his worries, however, as he soon heard, echoing through the ventilation systems, the sounds of his pursuers shouting to each other. They knew where he was now. They knew his escape was eminent. They would now be redoubling their efforts; the last thing this fugitive needed.

"Curses!" muttered the tired man under his breath. He agilely flipped out of the garbage bin, landing on his feet in the gravel. He took off running as fast as he could, paying no attention to where he was going. The important thing was to get as far away from this place as possible, as fast as possible. He was no more than perhaps four hundred meters away when his first pursuer slid out of the ventilation system and spotted him. Said pursuer immediately began sprinting in order to narrow the slight head start the man had. He was wearing nearly the same clothing as his quarry, except with perhaps a little less decoration. He was, after all, a lower ranked Lin Kuei.

More Lin Kuei began to slide from the shaft, men and women alike, all wearing the same general outfit. Their masks were each slightly varied in design, but other than that, there was no defining feature among them. Their quarry risked a glance behind him and saw them coming on strong, so he put on a burst of speed to reach the trees nearby before they caught him. He succeeded in disappearing, at least temporarily, among the trees.

This man knew what he was looking for, and he also knew he would know when he found it. He sought a portal. Not an inter-realm portal, nothing so fancy as that, but a portal nonetheless. It was set up long ago in order to provide an escape route for those who knew how to use it, and it would be strong enough to at least get him out of the country. He also had the good fortune of knowing where to look for it, while his opponents only knew what he was looking for, not where it was. In addition, they lacked the authority required to command the portal to open. This Lin Kuei, however, was in no shortage of authority.

He found what he was looking for shortly. His opponents directly behind him, he began the necessary rites to open the portal, his only route of escape. He succeeded with his hunters not one hundred meters away. As he stepped into the portal, he turned to smirk at his would-be assailants-and his heart nearly stopped. There, behind him, was the only man in the world that could follow him through this portal. His challenger, clad in the same high-end Lin Kuei garb as he himself, wearing the Dragon Medallion, once his, around his neck, stood behind him.

The world before him was twisted as the portal obscured his vision, and transported him to who knows where.

He emerged, alarmed and out of sorts, in a deserted street in what appeared to be the backwater area of some very large city. He spun on his heel to see the same man from before step onto the solid ground outside the reach of the portal.

"You have nowhere to run, my worthy adversary," said the dark man. "Surrender to your fate; fighting is futile." The fugitive's eyes darkened. "I'll never surrender to you, traitor! You only won that medallion through treachery and cowardice!" was his response.

The dark man's eyes flashed. "You dare impugn my honor?! You will die, here and now, and no one will be able to say that I am unworthy of the title of Grandmaster! Fight!"

The dark man raised one arm over his head and held the other before him in a threatening offensive stance, clearly designed to intimidate. Not alarmed in the least, the tired man adopted a swaying stance, more designed towards defense than offence. He prepared for his enraged opponent to rush him in an attempt to kill him immediately, and end this fight quickly.

He was not disappointed. He blocked the powerful roundhouse punch aimed at his face and countered with an uppercut towards his opponent's gut. This, too, was blocked, and an elbow was sent flying towards his chest, which he blocked easily enough. This cycle of striking, blocking, and countering carried on for well over a minute, until the tired man got a grasp on the dark man's arm as he tried to punch him in the jaw.

He flipped the man onto his back, and attempted to stomp on his throat, ending the fight earlier than he could have hoped for. But it was not to be, as the dark man broke his grip and rolled away. They circled for a short moment, each wary of his opponent's every move. The slightest twitch of the arm, the smallest glance to the side, none of these went unnoticed. Finally the fugitive saw his chance and came in hot. He began with another uppercut, this time to the chin. It landed squarely, launching the dark man into the air, and he followed up with a kick to the stomach, which was in turn followed by leaping down strike of the heel, placed solidly on his opponent's head. This caused the man's face to be painfully planted onto the blacktop road they were fighting on.

Both fighters took a moment to regain their sense of balance after their brief aerial struggle. The tired man came in with an underhand blow to the gut, and a palm to the side of the dark man's face, which sent him sprawling on the pavement. The downed ninja seemed to be unable to get up. The tired man walked quickly towards him, his lungs burning and his heart barely able to pound fast enough to keep him moving. "You're finished, traitor." Said he, as he grabbed the medallion hanging around the man's neck, and hauled him into the air by it. He set him on his feet, and, though he seemed a bit shaky, the dark man managed to stay there.

As the seemingly victorious fugitive prepared to end the life of the man before him, something unexpected happened. He heard a sound, the smallest, most insignificant scuffling, as of a shoe, but it was enough to turn his head. If someone was there, that person was a witness to this fight, which was unacceptable. The dark man took the opportunity granted to him, perhaps by the Elder Gods themselves, he thought, and pulled a knife from a sheath on his leg. He drove this knife into the chest of the man who would have slain him.

The defeated warrior fell to the ground, blood flying after him. He fell gracefully, almost beautifully…until he hit the ground. When he did, he thudded down sullenly, limbs going akimbo, and there he lay, smote into ruin on the poorly managed pavement of some strange road in some strange country. He felt the pull of the blade that administered his death blow as it was removed from his breast. He felt the renewed pain as this occurred, but he had no energy to cry out. He heard the voice of the dark man, is challenger, his opponent, and his bane, as he spoke to what he believed to be the dead remains of his adversary.

"You should have known better to run, my friend. It would have been so much easier for all of us."

As the footsteps of his victorious enemy echoed through the doomed ninja's mind, he thought to himself. _So this is how it ends. My mentor once said all warriors die the same way-facedown in the dirt…and he was right. My line, the greatest line the Lin Kuei has ever known, is ended. There will be no one to carry on my abilities._

This was to be his last coherent thought in this world. He looked towards the sound of scuffling shoes, believing it to be a hallucination, a repetition of the sound that caused his fatal distraction. What he saw was a teenage boy, his face pale as snow, his eyes wide as the winter sky. The sole witness to the last stand of one of Earthrealm's greatest warriors.

Said warrior reached out his hand. He touched the boy's boot. And he allowed the last of his energy to flow from his mind, body, and soul.

The shiny scar across his eye gleaming silver in the cold moonlight, Sub-Zero breathed his last.


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Alright, the prologue is ended, now on to the real story. I hope you all like the darker mood and themes, I know I do. And another thing: I know I have this marked as being about Sub-Zero, even though I killed him off in the prologue, and this chapter seems to be about an OC. Trust me on this, it's all about Sub-Zero in this story. Another thing is that this takes place after the events of Mortal Kombat: Armageddon, and works under the assumption that Taven found a way to stop the apocalypse. If he hadn't, everyone would be dead. Enjoy Chapter One!**_

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**_Tsumetai Kiramaru awoke with a start. Sweat poured down his pale face, his eyes were wide open, all traces of sleep gone. He had the strangest sensation of having gone somewhere, done something, and having been about it for a very long time. He frowned. _Whatever_, he thought. _It doesn't matter. I'm home, safe and sound, right here in Tokyo, Japan._ Having thus reassured himself, he got up to go get a glass of water.

As he walked silently down the dark hallway of his small home where he lived with his parents and younger sister, he thought about the dream he had been having. _It was a dream, of course. It must have been a dream. But…it seemed so real…._

When he reached the refrigerator, he removed a pitcher of water. The tap water in his house was good enough for washing dishes, clothing, and oneself, but it was far from being fit for human consumption. It was salty, cloudy, and overall quite nasty. His family wasn't wealthy enough to be able to afford city water. As such, he lifted the pitcher and poured himself a glass of the clear liquid. As he lifted it to his lips, his eyes widened. It was frozen.

_That's annoying. Now we have a refrigerator shooting craps and freezing shit. _

He looked at the pitcher on the counter. The water sparkled in the light from the streetlamps outside. Clear, appealing, and very much a liquid substance. He looked back at his glass. The water inside it was definitely solid ice. It was also much, much colder than the refrigerator was even capable of keeping things. _Okay…this is weird…_thought Tsumetai. _Last time I checked, water doesn't randomly freeze. There must be some reason for this…._He then proceeded to let loose a yawn so ferocious it popped his jaw. At this point, he decided to forget all about everything that had happened tonight, including the randomly freezing water and the dream about the dying decided, he replaced the water pitcher, shaking his head at the ice and mumbling profanities, and returned to his bedroom. He found no rest for the remainder of that night.

The next day was a weekend, so Tsumetai had nothing to do that day. After all, he had few friends, and those didn't like to hang out that much. So when he went to the kitchen for breakfast, he told his mother he would be going out, but didn't specify where.

"Hey, Mom, I'm gonna go for a walk, if that's cool with you…?"

"Sure, honey, don't get kidnapped."

Tsumetai laughed. "Don't worry Mom, I don't plan on it."

And so his journey began. He first walked down to an arcade. He had some money on him, so he bought a drink and played a few of his favorite games there. After that, he went to the park and people-watched. This was one of his favorite hobbies, because he found that people are doing stupid things eighty percent of the time. He watched a young woman who was running trip and fall, and he laughed without offering to help her. He watched an elderly man walking his dog attempt to restrain it from urinating on a bench, with no success at all. Again, he laughed at the man's misfortune. He watched a strange looking younger man sleeping on that same bench, still holding the newspaper he had been reading. He wasn't going to tell this man that a dog was about to pee on him, but he decided he should.

As he walked over to the man to wake him up, he was distracted by a couple walking by. They were talking about how cold it was for the season. Tsumetai looked at them strangely. For one thing, it was the middle of summer, and for another, he thought it was quite delightfully warm outside. He shrugged, in his typical "Oh, forget it, it doesn't matter" fashion, and turned back to the strange man. He was gone! Tsumetai simply turned and walked away, careless as ever.

Eventually it became overcast, and then began to rain. It was about 2:00 at this point, Tsumetai had been out around Tokyo for about five hours doing nothing constructive. He was about to head home when the first raindrops fell, and he witnessed a peculiar phenomenon: the raindrops froze when they touched his skin. The drops came down a dull gray, and when they came near him, they became a cold shade of silver. Needless to say, this was very inconvenient for Tsumetai; as more drops accumulated on him, he slowly became crusted over with ice.

"Well that's an interesting trick!" came a voice from behind him. Tsumetai spun on his heel-or tried to, anyway. He ended up falling flat on his face due to the unwieldiness of the ice clinging to his body. He looked up from the ground at the laughing stranger before him. "You seem confused. I can help with that part. You also seem arrogant, lazy, and cold. That I cant' help you with. So how about it? You want me to tell you why everything freezes around you, or are you just gonna lay there?" spoke the stranger. "Who are you?" asked Tsumetai. "Oh yeah, I didn't tell you. My name is Fujin. And really that's all you need to know for now." _What a weirdo…_thought Tsumetai. What he said was "Yeah, I could use an explanation."

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The two were at Tsumetai's house. Fujin had quickly befriended his mother and gained her trust. He seemed to be able to do that rather easily. Tsumetai looked him over. He had long gray hair, tied back in a ponytail, but his face showed no signs of aging. His eyes had a strange, gleaming quality that Tsumetai couldn't quite put his finger on. He was darkly tanned, and had the look of one who has been around the world several times and is unimpressed with what he sees. All in all, Tsumetai rather liked the look of this guy. He still didn't entirely trust him, but he didn't distrust him either.

"So, you'll first want to know about the freezing, right?" asked Fujin. Tsumetai simply looked at him and nodded. "Right. Well then, here's how it is…"

Fujin then told him about an organization called the Lin Kuei, and, more particularly, a Lin Kuei warrior by the name of Sub-Zero. He told him of a tournament called Mortal Kombat, and the events leading up to the current day, including the attack of the Deadly Alliance and the brush with the Apocalypse. Another thing he told him was that he, Fujin, was actually a lesser god, the god of wind, to be precise.

"Yeah, right! A god? Really, old man?" Exclaimed an unbelieving Tsumetai.

"What, you don't believe me?" asked Fujin. "Absolutely not. There's no such thing as a god. If there were all-powerful beings running around, you would think people would notice, but no one ever has." Came the response. Fujin interjected "Ah, see, that's where you're wrong. People HAVE noticed. Listen, come with me to China. You'll see."

"Yeah right! You think my mother will let me go to China with some guy we barely even know?!"

"She already has."Fujin smugly held up two tickets to China. "How…how did you convince her to go along with this crazy-ass plan?" Tsumetai inquired. "Oh, you know…that's just one of my skills. Divine powers, you might say."

Tsumetai moved over to his window, and gazed out into the rain. He was silent for a long time. Then, finally, "If I go with you, will I be coming back?"

Fujin's eyes narrowed. _Clever boy_, he thought. Hiw response was short and to the point. "Most likely not."

Tsumetai sighed. Again, he was silent for a long time. Then he made his decision.

"What are we waiting for?"

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_**Alright, we're about to get into the exciting part. Tsumetai will be meeting the first of his new companions next chapter, and he will take on the name "Sub-Zero" for the first time. Get pumped, people!**_

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	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N:Alright, new chapter is up! Please R&R!

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Tsumetai walked up the stone stairway. He was walking beside his new companion, Fujin, who claimed to be THE Fujin, the god of wind.

"Why are we in China again?" asked Tsumetai. "We're going to meet up with some people who can help convince you to trust me." responded Fujin._ Great,_ thought Tsumetai. _I've been dragged off to China to be brainwashed. That's totally normal. _

They continued walking up the side of the crumbling temple they were scaling. The stairs themselves were unreliable for a plethora of reasons; the stone they were made from was old and crumbling, they were set too narrow and too steep, and they were coated in moss and other vegetation grew from cracks in the ancient rock. As they neared the top, which was a flat surface large enough for a small group of people to stand comfortably on, Tsumetai turned and looked behind him.

His breath was halted for a moment by the panorama below and around them. The jungle grew out in all directions, as far as the eye could see in most, and wildlife rustled through the trees and undergrowth. "It really is beautiful here, I'll give you that." said he. "Of course it is. the Shaolin Monks chose this place to build their temple because of the beauty. It's very conducive to meditative thought." said Fujin. This reminder of just how little he knew about why he was here effectively dispelled Tsumetai's brief good mood.

"The Shaolin Monks? This is one of their temples then?" asked Tsumetai. "It WAS one of their temples," responded Fujin,"But it was attacked not so long ago, and the monks who lived here were killed." Tsumetai was perplexed. "But I thought the Shaolin Monks of China were some of the greatest martial artists on the planet. who would attack someone that intimidating?" he asked. "Do you remember the story I told you back at your house in Japan?" asked Fujin. "Yes, of course. How could I forget something that crazy?" came the response.

Fujin stopped walking up the steps a few meters from the top. "Then you remember what I told you about Shao Kahn?" he inquired. "Shao Kahn...he was the emperor who kept trying to take everything over, right?" said Tsumetai. "In so many words, yes. It was his armies that attacked this temple. They killed all of the monks from here except two, who were away at the time. I have summoned one of them here today. Let us go meet him, shall we?"

So saying, Fujin resumed walking up the stairway. Tsumetai followed. When they reached the top, sure enough, there was a young man waiting for them...although he didn't really have the look of a Shaolin Monk. "Tsumetai, meet Kung Lao. He is a survivor from the Shaolin Temple."

Kung Lao wore baggy clothes, but not the classic orange of the Shaolin Monks. No flowing robes here, no black sash around the waist. He wore a black shirt with the Hanja meaning "Martial", or "Warrior" on it, but other than that, there were no signs of his being a Shaolin. He also wore a very strange hat. It was black for the most part, but a shiny silver around the edges.

"Lord Fujin," greeted this person. "Hello Lao," said the god. "Is this the kid?" Asked the monk. "It is." said Fujin.

The man looked Tsumetai over. "So, kid. You don't think Fujin is a god?" asked he. "Well, I have my doubts." said Tsumetai. The monk sighed. "Come on, kiddo. Let me show you."

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About a half an hour later, the three of them were in the kwoon where the monks taught by Kung Lao trained in the Shaolin art of Wushu. The display of skill was impressive, with a great many demonstrations of different take-downs, pressure points manipulations, vital point strikes, grips and holds, and various other Wushu techniques. However, when Lao himself hit the ring, his students were immediately put to shame He was head, shoulders and chest above the rest in terms of martial arts technique. And then Fujin entered the ring. Tsumetai raised an eyebrow.

Fujin immediately downed Kung Lao. The former had attempted a rushing take-down, but Fujin somehow got behind him and applied pressure to the back of his elbow, at which point Lao went down. Variations of this went on for a good while, until it became clear that Fujin was using supernatural powers to evade his sparring partner. Tsumetai was duly impressed.

Kung turned to Tsumetai. "You see it now?" Tsumetai shrugged, unwilling to admit that he was wrong, that this strange, strange man with the long hair actually was a GOD. "Well...yeah, I guess so." he said. "You GUESS SO?" repeated Lao incredulously. "You GUESS he's a god after watching him TELEPORT?!"

"Lao, drop it. Let's just begin his training, shall we?" spoke the now-proven god. "I suppose so...yes, let's do it."

And what followed was a long period of learning techniques from Fujin. Not for hours. Not for days or weeks, even. For MONTHS. The process was actually sped up by Fujin's superb knowledge of every fighting style known to mortal man, which took a learning procedure that should have taken years, and reducing the time to about 12 months. One year, and Tsumetai was already learning the more advanced techniques of Ninjutsu, Wushu, Karate, Taekwondo, Muy Thai, and Lin Kuei. This last was by far his favorite. It seemed...right, somehow.

Tsumetai met many new companions; Johnny Cage, Jax, Sonya, Kitana, Kenshi, and a masked man who called himself Ermac and referred to himself in the plural form were the most prominent of these. He got to know some of them, but never really became intimate with any. The blind swordsman was probably his closest companion among them, and after him, Ermac.

It was during a conversation with that last that Tsumetai first heard tell of the Lin Kuei warriors, the "forest demons" of rural China. Ermac told him of a man named Sub-Zero, with the power to freeze anything and everything. He told him about his brother, Noob Saibot, who joined the Brotherhood of Shadow, and his arch-nemesis, Scorpion, who hunted him far across the Earth Realm and beyond it, and he told Tsumetai of Sub-Zero's mysterious dissapearance, approximately the same time as Tsumetai first discovered his new powers.

So this became Tsumetai's life for a good long while. Training and meditating with the Shaolin Monks, swapping tales with his eccentric friend Ermac and his blind friend Kenshi, and gaining a better understanding of his ability to control ice.

He also found time for some reflection. He mostly thought about Sub-Zero. How he took his brother's name after his disappearance. About the dream he had the night before he discovered his powers. More and more, he thought the man in that dream must have been Sub-Zero. More and more, he thought Sub-Zero somehow chose him to be his successor.

He finally decided that must be it. As he was speaking to Kenshi one day, he brought it up. Kenshi agreed that it could be possible.

"So, Kenshi, that said, I've decided to take a new name."

"What's that?"

"Sub-Zero, of course."

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**_A/N: Alright, so there it is. Hope it's not to cheesy. Read and Review, please and thankya!_**

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	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Since I've finally got my train of thought for this story rolling again, here's another update! R&R, please!**_

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**_Sub-Zero, once called Tsumetai, walked briskly down the walkway to Kung Lao's cell. The monk had called him there at the will of Fujin, and hadn't told him why. He passed a few monks he had become familiar with, and exchanged short greetings with them. He had gained the respect of the Shaolin through his quick mastery of so many different martial arts and fighting styles, and they now considered him to be a legitimate fighter, a martial artist in full.

When Sub-Zero reached Lao's cell, he knocked on door, and waited for the word to enter. He didn't have to wait long, and when he did enter, Lao's back was to him. He was standing by his modest bed looking at something. Upon Sub-Zero's entry, the monk turned to face him.

"You came quickly, Sub-Zero. I'm glad. As you know, Lord Fujin left the temple a short time ago, but he wanted you to have this." The monk gestured behind him, towards his bed. On it lay a faded black dogi, in the Japanese design, and a similarly colored belt. Along with it was a pale blue mask, a Shinobi style hood, and a blue coverlet. On the floor nearby were blue tabi and fist guards.

"This is the same style of clothing worn by the lesser Lin Kuei, and this, in particular, was actually worn by the Sub-Zero before you. You are a warrior now. You can't go running around in jeans and a T-shirt forever." said Kung Lao.

Sub-Zero looked at himself. True, he had no fighting gear of his own, but..."Isn't this a little extravagant for what I'll be doing?" he asked.

Lao simply looked at him, one eyebrow cocked. "Oh, I think not."

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Decked out in full Lin Kuei combat regalia, Sub-Zero strode confidently towards the Wushu threw the double doors open and walked inside. Those training within ceased what they were doing to look him over. Some nodded approvingly, some raised an eyebrow skeptically, and some showed no sign of their thoughts at all. One of these was Sub-Zero's friend Ermac. The spiritual amalgam approached him.

"We see you are now Sub-Zero in full." He said. "Yes, you might say that. My training is complete." said Sub-Zero. "The training of a martial artist is never complete, friend." returned Ermac. "Alright then, my preliminary training is complete, put it that way." countered Sub-Zero.

The telekinetic shrugged. "Very well then. We wish to see the extent of your training. Will you fight us?" said he. Sub-Zero looked Ermac over. "Alright. No tricks though." he said finally. "Speak for yourself," said the other.

The two fighters squared off in the center of the kwoon. The monks around them created a circle around them. Sub-Zero went through what he knew about Ermac's fighting style. He knew the red-clad warrior primarily used the art of Hua Chuan, a Chinese fighting technique focusing on fluid breathing and motion, and circular strikes, mostly open-handed. _If I can keep my distance from him, I should be able to take him down using Taekwondo techniques..._he thought. Taekwondo was a Korean style focusing on using kicks to keep the opponent off balance long enough to down them.

Sub-Zero watched as Ermac began the pinwheeling arm motions designed to help control the breathing so necassary to the Hua Chuan style. He knew now was the time to strike; because if he let Ermac find his center, he was done for, and he knew it. He rushed in with a flurry of powerful roundhouse kicks, alternating legs to throw off Ermac's rhythm. But his attempt was in vain; Ermac avoided his strikes without even ceasing his arm motions.

The ice warrior tried a different tact. he circled around towards his opponent and attempted to sweep his legs out from under him. Ermac leapt into the air without missing a beat. Sub-Zero aimed a powerful tornado kick at his head. Ermac grabbed his leg and tossed him aside like a piece of garbage. Sub-Zero lay on the floor for a while, watching his opponent. The pinwheeling motions continued, this was good. It meant Ermac had not yet found the place where body and soul meet, which in turn meant his attacks were distracting him, at least a little.

Sub-Zero rolled over and got to his feet, just as Ermac ceased his arm motions. Sub-Zero froze. The next few moments could possibly determine the winner of their bout. If Ermac had found his center, Sub-Zero knew he was done. In the end he decided to throw caution to the winds and charged forward, screaming like a banshee and loosing a barrage of kicks on his opponents. They were mostly connected, inciting grunts from his foe, although a few were blocked. Then, out of nowhere, a foot flew into Sub-Zero's face, very nearly breaking both his nose and jaw.

The fighter hit the ground hard, and felt all the air rushing out of his lungs upon impact. He jack-knifed to his feet, and glared at his opponent, who was calmly facing him, now utilizing a swaying, feral stance, as opposed to the grace and style of Hua Chuan.

_What the hell...was that capoeira?!_, thought the astonished fighter. Capoeira was a Brazilian war-dance style focused on balancing on the hands and delivering punishing blows with the feet. It increased the maximum range of a fighter's strikes to the length of his entire body, and momentum andcentrifugal force added a great deal of power to the kick.

_He must have realized my strategy and seen Hua Chuan was no good._ Reach was Taekwondo's primary advantage over Hua Chuan. Time for a new game plan.

The combatants circled once more, this time more carefully, each attempting to divine the other's next move. Sub-Zero decided on Wushu wrestling techniques, so when Ermac flipped over to him and launched a spinning kick at his head, Sub-Zero was ready.

He grabbed Ermac's leg and stepped forward, causing Ermac to lose his sense of balance and forcing him to hop to stay up. The Sub-Zero kicked the back of his knee, which put Ermac on his backside on the ground. Sub-Zero gained some distance from him and came in hot with a flying sidekick while Ermac was getting up. It connected with the side of his opponent's head, putting him on the ground once more.

Ermac jumped quickly to his feet to avoid being struck the same way again, but didn't expect a sweep at his arms. The kicks connected with the nerves in his forearms, a pain point capable of causing a lot of pain. It did so on this occasion. But Ermac was used to pain, and when Sub-Zero came in to tap him out with a tigermouth strike to the throat, Ermac punched him directly in the solar plexus. This was no martial arts technique, this was street fighting. Ermac followed up with a set of blows simliarly lacking organization, and ended up socking Sub-Zero in the throat, knocking him down and effectively ending the fight.

Sub-Zero looked up at his friend. "That wasn't martial arts." he accused. "You're very good, friend, but you need to think outside the box. We defeated you because you are narrowminded."

Sub-Zero glared exasperatedly at his friend. "Yeah, well you lot are assholes, you know that?" he said, rising. Ermac laughed. "Maybe we are, friend. Maybe we are."

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_**A/N: Alright, I felt like I needed another fight scene, so I put the plot development on hold for a chapter. I also managed to sneak in some possible foreshadowing there, did you catch it? Anyhow, we're almost to the legitimate body of the story, so next chapter, ON WITH PLOT DEVELOPMENT!!!!**_

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